God Only Knows
by jjscm01
Summary: A collection of Joe/Graham one-shots.
1. Party

"I immediately regret this decision." Graham looked around the packed living room of Home Farm. Joe had persuaded him that a party inviting all the local business leaders and socialites would be a good way to drum up awareness of Waterhouse International.

"Relax, Graham," said Joe, sipping champagne. "Have an orange juice and try to mingle."

"Do you actually know any of these people?"

Joe shrugged. "Some of them by reputation... oh, hello," he greeted a woman in a black dress who had approached, smiling at them both.

"Amanda Delacott," she introduced herself, holding out her hand for both of them to shake. "Property developer."

"Joseph Tate, CEO of Waterhouse International," replied Joe. "This is my partner, Graham Foster."

"How long have you been together?" asked the woman politely.

"It's about ten years, isn't it darling?" Joe reached for Graham's hand.

"We're not a couple," said Graham, before Joe could get into full flow. "We're business associates."

"Spoil my fun, why don't you," Joe muttered to Graham.

"Do you live locally?" Graham asked Amanda.

"Just over in Hotten."

"Do excuse me," said Joe. "Must just check on the caterers." He winked at Graham as he left him and Amanda to get acquainted.


	2. Tattoo

Graham watched as Joe emerged from the tattoo parlour. Wincing, Joe walked over to the car and opened the door, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Well?" asked Graham. "Did you go through with it?"

"Of course. You thought I was going to chicken out?"

"Let's see, then."

Joe gingerly rolled up his sleeve to show a tattoo across his wrist. The skin was pink and sore-looking, and black letters spelled out JMT.

"You had your own initials tattooed?" Graham's lips twitched.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." Graham shook his head. "I suppose it'll come in useful if you ever lose your memory."

"Ha, ha."

"I thought you might get something more sentimental," said Graham, starting the car engine.

"Well, I did." Joe pulled down his shirt to reveal another, smaller tattoo on his shoulder.

Graham looked closely. "Is that a wheelchair?"

"For my dad." Joe nodded. "And to remind myself not to accept limitations."

Graham looked at Joe's stubborn face.

"I'm sure your father would be touched."

"If you're laughing at me—"

"I'm not," Graham said quietly. Joe looked at him and nodded.

"Let's get home, then." Joe pulled on his seatbelt. "I could do with a large scotch after that."


	3. Birthday

Graham strode into the Home Farm kitchen, heading purposefully for the coffee machine.

"Morning," he said to Joe, who was sitting at the table.

"Don't 'morning' me." Joe spun around and held out a gift bag. "Happy birthday."

Graham took the bag with a sigh. "I was hoping you'd forgotten."

"I've got an excellent memory."

"I've noticed." Graham looked inside the bag. "I'm a bit too old for birthday celebrations."

"C'mon, you're only..." Joe wrinkled his brow. "How old are you?"

"Never you mind."

"Go on, open it."

Graham pulled a card out of the bag and opened it. Joe had got him the slushiest card on the shelf and signed it with a row of kisses to wind him up.

"Very nice."

"Open the present."

Graham unwrapped the box, revealing a complicated looking model aeroplane set.

"To add to the collection," Joe said. "And to help keep you zen after I've driven you crazy all day..."

Graham looked at Joe and could see the sincerity in his expression. "Thank you. That's very thoughtful."

"So will you come to the Woolpack for a drink tonight?" asked Joe. "I promise there won't be a surprise party..."

"Fine. You can buy me an orange juice."

The doorbell rang at that moment and Joe jumped to his feet. "That'll be your cake."

Graham shook his head as Joe ran to the door, but couldn't hold back a smile.


	4. Trouble

Joe looked at the place where his clothes should be. He was alone in the boys' changing room, having deliberately waited until the communal shower was empty before going in. He could hear shouts of laughter coming from outside the changing room as his classmates made their way down the corridor.

He stood there, dripping in nothing but a towel, wondering what to do. His next lesson was in five minutes and it would take half an hour to walk back to his dorm, in the cold, barefoot and humiliated. He could chase after the other boys and demand that they give him his clothes back, but that was probably what they wanted.

He closed his eyes and tried to think.

...

The geography lesson was already underway when the door opened and Joe walked in. "Sorry I'm late," he announced. "I couldn't find my clothes."

There were gasps as Joe walked towards his usual desk, Mr Shillock looking desperately around for something to preserve Joe's modesty.

"Tate, outside, now!"

"I know I'm late but is that really..."

"Out!"

Smirking, Joe stepped outside the classroom and picked up his discarded towel.

...

"It's really not funny, Joe," said Graham later, in the groundskeeper's hut.

"It was a bit."

"You could have been arrested."

"It's not my fault my clothes were stolen." Joe sipped his tea.

"You should have gone and reported it, not walked into class naked."

"I expect it gave Mr Shillock a thrill." Joe shuddered. "The old perve."

"You can't keep pulling stunts like this."

"I'm not the one pulling them."

"Then, as your legal guardian, I should inform the headmaster that you're being harassed."

"Don't you dare." Joe suddenly looked older than 16.

Graham sighed. "Alright, but promise me next time something like this happens you'll come and tell me. No more public nudity, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

"I mean it, Joe. You could still be expelled, and your Aunt Zoe could revoke my guardianship. Do you want to go back to New Zealand?"

"No," Joe muttered sullenly.

"Then, behave yourself. Try to stay out of trouble for the next two years."

"I'll do my best."


	5. Room Service

"How long have you felt like this?" asked Joe.

They were sitting in Joe's hotel room, the sounds of Monte Carlo just outside the window.

"It's been a while." Graham shifted uncomfortably. "But knowing I was never going to see you again... I couldn't deny it anymore."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because I knew you could never feel the same way." Graham avoided Joe's bright blue eyes. "I know you see me as..."

"As what?"

"A father figure."

"I had a father. Chris," Joe pointed out. "I don't need another."

"Still, your Aunt Zoe made me your guardian."

"That was years ago. I'm not a kid anymore." Joe hesitated. "And you know I'm not exactly straight..."

"You love Debbie." Graham finally looked at him.

"You keep saying that." Joe crinkled his nose in thought. "Maybe I just wanted to be loved, by someone..."

"Well, you are." Graham cleared his throat.

"Thank you," said Joe. Graham looked at him in surprise. "I mean, it's not ideal, you showing up and announcing that you're in love with me, when I'm meant to be hiding from your girlfriend..."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm the one that should be sorry." Joe reached out to squeeze Graham's hand. "You fell off the wagon because of me."

"I'm back on it now."

"What about Kim?"

"Yes, I still love her, too."

"What a mess." Joe rubbed his head, pushing his now-long hair back from his face.

"But I choose you. Not that I expect you to choose me back."

"Don't rule it out." Joe's lips curved into a smile. Graham looked for any signs of a wind-up, but he could always tell when Joe was being sincere.

"So what now?"

Joe shrugged. "Room service?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I." Joe reached for the phone on the bed. "Let's get fed, and then we can analyse this to death if you want..."

Graham smiled as Joe dialled the number for room service. Joe seemed more mature, somehow, than when he had left the village. Graham twisted his wedding ring around his finger and allowed himself to hope, for the first time, that he could be happy again.


	6. Home Sweet Home

"Welcome home," said Graham as he opened the door to Home Farm.

Joe stepped over the doorway warily, looking around. "What has Kim done to the place?"

"Her tastes in decor differed from yours," Graham acknowledged.

Joe shook his head in disgust.

"Thank you," he said finally, when he'd finished looking around and complaining about Kim's changes. "Never thought I'd get this place back."

"I couldn't have done it without Jamie, and Andrea..."

"I'll remember to thank them." Joe stepped up to Graham and put his arms around him.

"I'm glad you're back," Graham said quietly, against Joe's shoulder.

"There's no place like home. Farm," Joe added playfully.

Graham smiled and stepped back.

"I'll put the kettle on."


	7. Results

_2013_

Joe knocked on the door of the groundkeeper's hut. His results envelope was enclosed in his hand. Graham opened the door and looked inscrutably at him before standing back to let him in.

Joe shuffled inside and sat down at the table where they usually played chess.

"Well?" said Graham, pulling out a chair to sit beside him.

Joe silently handed him the torn envelope. Graham opened it and scanned the page within.

"An A in art, a B in history and an A in economics." A smile spread across Graham's face. "These are great results, Joe."

"I was hoping for three As." Joe sounded sulky.

"You're not seriously disappointed?" Graham looked at him. "I thought you weren't planning to go to university anyway?"

"I'm not." Joe thought of his inheritance from his father, which Zoe, or her lawyers, had transferred into his bank account on his eighteenth birthday.

"Well, then."

"It just would have been nice to have a hat trick, that's all." Joe reached for the envelope, crumpling it and putting it in his jacket pocket.

"You can always retake that exam if you're not happy."

"Nah." He shrugged. "Why do I need to know about Roman history anyway? It's, well, ancient history."

"You should be proud of your results," Graham told him. "Your Aunt Zoe will be delighted." He thought of all the times Joe had come close to being expelled.

"Yeah." Joe finally smiled. "I'm going back to New Zealand in a week. Just for a break."

"Have you told Zoe yet? About your results?"

"No. You're the first person I've told."

Graham looked like he was suppressing a look of pride.

"So what will you do now?" he asked.

"That's the other thing I wanted to show you." Joe drew another piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Graham.

"Waterhouse International," Graham read off the letterhead at the top of the page. "What's that?"

"It's my new company." Joe sounded jubilant. "I just registered it."

"A company for what?"

"Ahh." Joe hesitated. "I haven't worked out all the details yet. I was hoping you could help me."

"Me?" Graham looked up.

"I was hoping you'd be my... associate. Business advisor. We'll think of a cool job title."

"If this is a pity offer..." Graham put the piece of paper down.

"It's not." Joe sounded genuinely shocked. "I need you. I wouldn't have got through the last few years without you."

Graham could hear the sincerity in his voice. "So what, you want me to quit my job here? Come and work for you?"

"Why not? You're clearly wasted here."

Graham hesitated. "I'm... unreliable, Joe."

"You haven't touched alcohol for months," Joe pointed out bluntly.

"That doesn't mean I don't want to."

"I know." Joe nodded. "But if Auntie Zoe can run a business with all her problems..."

Graham acknowledged this with a nod.

"Just think about it, okay? The offer's there if you want it."

"OK." Graham nodded as he went to put the kettle on. Joe automatically pulled out the chess board from under the table.

"Where is this business going to be based, anyway?" Graham asked as he put the teapot on the table.

Joe smiled in a cryptic manner. "I was thinking Yorkshire."


	8. Devil on My Shoulder

"So," said Joe as Graham closed the office door behind him. "Congratulations."

"What for?" Graham asked.

"Being a father." Joe handed him a glass of scotch.

"I shouldn't really..." Graham looked at the drink.

"Just the one, to celebrate."

"It's hardly something to celebrate," Graham said stiffly.

"Having a daughter?" Joe raised his eyebrows.

"You don't mind then, Millie not being a Tate?"

"Hey, I'm not that attached to Uncle Jamie's side of the family." Joe spread his arms. "I'm happy for you."

"We don't know for sure if Millie is mine."

"Come on, you only have to look at her."

"How can I be a father to her?" Graham massaged his temples as he sipped the whisky.

"You already are her father, thanks to the delectable Andrea." Joe smiled. "You really didn't suspect?"

"No." Graham avoided Joe's gaze. "I didn't let myself consider it."

"Because of..." Joe prompted gently.

"I had my chance at fatherhood." Graham closed his eyes as the memories intruded.

"And this is your second chance. Take it."

"I don't deserve it." Graham swallowed some more alcohol.

"It's not about what you deserve. You simply are Millie's father. What are you going to do about it?" Joe demanded.

"Millie loves Jamie. He's her daddy."

"And he can still be her daddy, but you can be in her life too. She doesn't have to choose."

"Kim would never forgive me."

"Well, that's true." Joe raised his eyes heavenward. "She's not really the forgiving type."

"What am I supposed to tell her?"

"The truth, maybe." Joe looked over Graham's shoulder as the door opened behind him. Graham quickly put the glass down behind a framed photo of Millie, out of sight.

"Are you alright?" Kim frowned at Graham's jittery behaviour.

"Fine." Graham attempted a smile.

"Who are you talking to?"

Graham glanced at the photo frame. He longed to finish his drink. "No one."


End file.
